


The Beast You've Made of Me

by sparrowshellcat



Category: Cursed (2005), Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-06
Updated: 2010-11-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their encounter with Madison the werewolf, Sam and Dean decide to hunt down other wolves, thinking it might be part of a larger pack. However, what Sam doesn't know is that there is no such thing as "safe sex" with a werewolf, and the younger Winchester has already been infected. Maybe what Sam needs, however, is a pack of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For more fic and art, you can follow me on Tumblr! [sparrowshellcat](http://sparrowshellcat.tumblr.com)

**The Beast You've Made of Me**

PROLOGUE

Ellie knocked on her brother’s slightly open bedroom door, then pushed it gently open, smiling faintly at the teenaged boy inside. “Jimmy? I brought dinner. You hungry?”

He looked up from his book, hesitating. “Sure.”

Stepping into the room, and setting the tray on his desk, she brushed his crazy curls back. “What are you working on? Homework?”

“Oh no, that was finished hours ago, I’m just… reading.” He flushed, trying to slowly, inconspicuously slide the book under his pillows. Jimmy had always failed at looking “innocent” though, so there was no way that his older sister was going to buy that, and he yelped as she scooped up the book, flicking it closed so she could read the front cover. 

“ _Bitten: the new werewolf’s guide to life_ ,” she read, then gave him a pointed look.

“It’s funny,” he muttered, defensively.

“Don’t you think you’ve had _enough_ of this bullshit?” she waved it at him. “Last month, you almost turned into one!”

“Technically,” Jimmy sat up, running his hand through his hair. “We _were_ turned into werewolves. We just almost shifted into our wolf forms, but never really successfully did that because we killed – well, you know, _him_. Except that it’s kinda weird…”

Ellie looked pained at the mention of the murder of her old boyfriend. “We don’t _talk_ about that, Jimmy, remember?”

He looked up, and flushed. “Well, it’s not like _you’re_ gonna call the cops on me.”

“That’s not the point,” she sighed, looking away, hugging herself slightly, though she would claim she was just crossing her arms if asked. “And the whole situation was weird, Jimmy.”

“Well, that’s not it, actually.” He hesitated. “Do _you_ feel any different?”

“Of course I do.”

“Right.” He frowned, scratching at his jaw. “…I don’t. And people aren’t treating me like they used to, either. They’ve been treating me like they did when I was full on werewolf.”

“Maybe you gained new confidence,” she said, flushed, flustered. 

“…Ellie, this _is_ me we’re talking about.” Jimmy gave her a dull look, and stood, digging in his drawer. He tugged out a small cloth wrapped bundle, and carefully, making very sure not to touch the item inside the cloth, tugged the covers back to reveal a simple silver pie server. “Look.”

“Why do you have that up here?” she demanded, brows furrowing. “I was looking all over for that, after… after. Look, Jimmy, that should be thrown out, there’s even still blood all over it!”

“Yeah, I know.” He considered the pie lifter, then his sister, holding it forward. “Touch it.”

“What?!”

“ _Touch it_.”

“ _No_ , Jimmy, there’s blood all over it! That’s not sanitary, that’s not healthy, that’s just… _no_ , I won’t touch it.”

“Fine. I will.” He reached for the handle, then yelped in surprise when Ellie slapped the whole bundle out of his hand. The fabric napkin drifted to the floor, and the pie lifter clattered away, landing somewhere under the desk. “Hey! What was _that_ for? I was trying to prove a point!”

“Don’t.” she said sharply, trembling slightly. She was even paler than normal – if that was even possible – and looked absolutely terrified. 

“Ellie, the full moon is tomorrow, if nothing has changed, then whether I prove it now or then won’t really make much of a difference. You know that…”

“No.” Ellie said firmly, meeting his eyes. “It’s not true, Jimmy.”

He arched a brow. “You’re, what, planning on offing yourself before then, or something? Because believe me, when that full moon rises tomorrow, you’re going to be turning into a ravenous beast. I’ve read every source I can find, Ellie. Killing the head of the werewolf line isn’t going to do anything. And even if it _did_ , he’s not the beginning of the line! Remember what you told me what he said? He was _born_ with this. That means his mother was one, Ellie. Or his father, I guess…” he trailed off for a minute, considering that. “I mean, not that it actually ends up mattering that much because if his father was a werewolf, chances are his mother became one…”

“We are _not_ werewolves, Jimmy.” Ellie cut him off, jaw set stubbornly.

He looked up, and sighed. “You’re wrong, Ellie. We’ve still got the mark, we’re still… all… unnaturally sexy and all that stuff, Zipper’s still acting weird…”

“Zipper’s still acting weird because he _remembers_ what it was like.” She muttered.

“I ate a steak last night.” Jimmy said, crossing his own arms, mimicking her pose as he considered his older sister. “I ate it raw.”

“Jimmy! That’s terrible for you! You could get _worms_ , or… something!” Ellie yelped.

“I don’t really care. I don’t think worms can really do a heck of a lot to a werewolf.” He shrugged, and stepped over to his window, pushing it open fully so that she could see the almost full moon hanging heavy in the sky. “Don’t tell me that you don’t want to howl at that. Right now.”

Ellie swatted his arm. “That’s not being a werewolf, Jimmy, that’s being a man.”

He snorted, grinning at her despite himself. “I guess _that’s_ true.”

She sighed, leaning on his arm. “Guess we’ll see tomorrow. That I’m right. And that you are _very_ wrong, kiddo.”

Jimmy laughed. “Sure, Ellie. You keep believing that.”

“I do believe that.” She stayed silent for a few long moments, then murmured, “Jake didn’t turn on the full moon, until he wanted to. He wasn’t forced to change, like we were. He only started turning once he wanted to .”

“Uh huh,” Jimmy nodded, remembering that. 

“And Joanie… Joanie turned whenever she wanted to. All the time. She didn’t worry about how close it was to the full moon, or anything.”

He nodded, scratching his jaw. “Yeah.”

“So if we _were_ still werewolves – and I am not saying we are, because we’re not – then we would be able to turn whenever. We wouldn’t have to wait until the full moon. And we probably wouldn’t even have to change then, maybe only the first few times, or something.”

Jimmy glanced at her, brows furrowed. “Are you suggesting we try it now, to test the theory?”

“What?! No! I’m suggesting we never do it!”

Jimmy snorted. “A werewolf that never turns into a wolf ever? That sounds downright depressing. How do you think it starts? It started on my spine last time.”

Ellie glowered at him, then sighed, looking back out the window. “Yeah… me too.”

“Hm.” He pondered that, then murmured, “It hurt.”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Think it would get better with time, with each time you did it, or do you think it would always hurt?”

She hesitated. “I dunno, Jimmy. I don’t want to think about it.”

“You know you have to, right?”

“No.” she muttered stubbornly. “It’s not true, so I never have to worry about it again. Jake is gone, Joanie is gone, and everything is back to normal, dammit. We’re perfectly normal people, nothing beastly about us at all.”

Jimmy sighed, leaning slightly on her, taking a moment to just relax, then murmured, “Want me to try, then?”

“No,” she muttered, but didn’t make a move to stop him when her brother stepped back from her into the middle of the room, where there was the most space. “What are you going to do, exactly? There’s no switch you can just flick for ‘wolf time’.”

“Can’t touch this,” he grinned, but his grin was nervous. 

Ellie shook her head, arms still crossed, watching him. She was absolutely sure that this was not going to work. 

Mostly.

Jimmy shifted his shoulders, cracked all his knuckles, then closed his eyes, focusing. 

“What exactly are you doing?”

“Being distracted by your nattering,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders again, trying to work the tension out, hoping that something would start to _feel_ changed, maybe. “Stop talking, I’m trying to focus.”

She sighed, shaking her head, and waited. 

Jimmy focused, trying to send himself thoughts of changing, of shifting into a wolf. He tried to visualize it, tried to come up with some kind of ‘positive self image’ thing where he was a wolf, but it just started feeling more and more ridiculous, until he started focusing on just the change itself, tried to imagine his spine elongating, changing, his arms and legs changing their shape, ears shifting. 

And abruptly, his spine _hurt_.

Gasping, he reached his hand up to touch the back of his neck, eyes widening. 

“Jimmy?” Ellie whispered. 

It was as though he had opened a floodgate. Last time the moon had forced a change in him, he’d slowly changed just a little at a time, most of the changes disappearing moments after. “The first change is unstable,” Jake had said, and he’d been right. This time, the moment he felt his spine shifting out, vertebrae opening and expanding, it was as though he had tipped over the edge of a waterfall he’d been teetering on just the edge of for the past month, and now that he was over, there was no going back. Ever.

He bent double, his guts twisting, and cried out as he felt his nails lengthen and harden all at once, jaws shifting and nearly breaking as his teeth grew. “Oh god, Ellie!”

She cried out, crouching beside him, trying to hug him. “Stop it, Jimmy! Stop it!”

“I can’t!” he howled, eyes burning as they flared gold, and he started to change.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**The Beast You've Made of Me**

  


FOUR MONTHS LATER

“Dean, I swear to god, if you eat that in the car, we are not going anywhere,” Sam pointed at his brother, firmly.

“My car, my rules,” Dean smirked, and slid into the driver’s seat with his burger – double onions on it – in hand. “Now sit yer pansy ass down and quit yer bellyachin’. Bobby got a lead on some strange deaths out in California, looks like that’s where we’re heading next.”

Sam reluctantly slid into the passenger seat, glowering at the burger Dean was now ravenously attacking. “More wolves?”

He nodded, wiping barbeque sauce off the corner of his mouth. “Looks like he found the pack that might have turned that first guy in the first place. We can cut this whole fiasco off at the base, and no one else needs to get hurt.”

He sighed, nodding, looking out the window. Sam seemed to be doing that a lot lately, ever since Madison…

“Hey. We’re going to save people again.” Dean reminded him. “That’s what we do, right? Hunting things, saving people?”

Sam nodded.

“Stop being such a grumpy gus, and help me figure out the route.” He grumped, glowering at his brother. He understood how his brother could be a little upset over the whole thing – after all, he _had_ had to shoot someone he’d just slept with the day before, but she _had_ been a werewolf, and she _had_ accepted that it was her time to go. As a hunt went, it had been one of the most straight forward and simple. So maybe it had been a bad idea to focus their energy on finding the rest of the wolves right away after, but werewolfism was kind of a _time sensitive_ issue. You had to get them quick, _before_ the next full moon.

“Fine,” Sam muttered, digging the maps out of the glove compartment. “We don’t have much in the way of silver bullets.”

Dean snorted. “You know we don’t need those. It’s really just a matter of separating the head from the heart, anyhow. Technically, there are tons of ways of doing that.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

Shaking his head, the older brother licked barbeque sauce off his fingers, then balled up the bag he’d bought the burger in, and tossed it out the window before cranking the key and pulling the Impala out of its parking spot, looking over his shoulder as he backed out. “All right, Sammy boy, let’s get headed out to sunny California, shall we?”

Sam sighed. “Sure.”

\---

“I’m telling you, it was just a minor animal control incident, Officer… what did you say your name was, again?”

“Gary Rossington,” Dean smiled disarmingly, tapping the point of his pen lightly against the pad he held in his hand. “I understand, sir, that it was just an animal control incident, but it’s just a little part of a larger investigation, and we just need to know every detail, no matter how mundane it might seem.”

The animal control officer, a Dick Belcoe, stood, and headed to the filing cabinet, digging about for the file.

Sam glanced at Dean, and smirked slightly. “Gary Rossington?” he mouthed, silently.

The older Winchester shrugged, grinning.

“Ah, here we go, the file for the Tinsel case…” Dick stepped back to his desk, already flicking through the pages, frowning slightly. “I don’t know _all_ the details, only what the investigation reports, but I was there, so I can tell you a few first hand details…”

“Now,” Sam cleared his throat. “I understand that it was a large animal that got loose in a crowded club, correct?”

He snorted. “It was huge.”

“And what was it, exactly?” Dean smiled at him. 

The man hesitated. “Well. We never really… it got away.”

Sam looked up sharply. “I thought the reports said that the body was found.”

Dick squirmed a little, clearing his throat awkwardly, scratching at his jaw. “Well… ah… that might have been a slight misnomer… there was… _a_ body found.”

Dean arched a brow, waiting.

“…a bystander. Got in the crossfire, got shot. The men reported that they thought they’d got it, but when I arrived to take a look at the body, it was… the unfortunate woman.”

“The woman and the… animal, could they have shot her by accident, thinking she was the animal?”

“Well,” Dick hesitated, “The reports do say that the creature walked somewhat bipedal… we think it might have been a bear.”

“A bear.” Dean frowned. “In Southern California.”

“I know, I thought it was ridiculous, too, but… all the reports concluded that, and it’s not _completely_ unheard of…” Dick bolted up again to head back to the filing cabinet. “Just two days before, there was a massive car wreck on Mulholland, two cars collided with a bear, and one was even mauled and killed. Well… the official conclusion was a bear, though some original reports suggested a coyote, or wild dog, my men at the scene concluded there is no way it could have been anything that small.”

“Does this happen a lot in your area? Bear attacks?” Sam jotted a couple notes in his pad, glancing up at Dick.

“Yes and no,” he frowned. “There are some reports that things like this happened in the 1920s, back when they were expanding in this area, but most reports concluded that bears had been chased out of Southern California by the demolition of their environments. But in the last few years, there have been more… and in the last four months, the number of attacks have meteorically risen. I’ve been doing some research into it myself, but I was told that it was not a pressing issue. I’m surprised that you have been assigned to it.”

“Well, based on the reports we’ve been given, was there not an attack in a parking garage?” Dean arched a brow.

Dick cleared his throat again. Seemed to be a touch of a nervous habit. “Technically, there’s no proof that was the bear… there has been some investigation that it might have just been someone with a rather… animal like mode of operation…”

Sam reached into the inside jacket of his suit, and tugged out a folded piece of paper, unfolding it. It was a photocopy of a newspaper article, not terribly well photocopied, but clear enough for him to see something in the photos that hadn’t actually been mentioned in the article. There were sharp indents on the hoods of the cars in the photos – indents that looked significantly like footprints. “As I understand it, distinctive animal prints were found at the scene, along with evidence of claw marks and biting… that suggests a rather large animal at the scene to me, sir.”

He sighed. “True…”

“Have any photos ever been taken of this creature, Officer Belcoe?” Dean suggested, looking up at him. 

“The police had a few shots from security footage from both Tinsel and the parking garage,” Dick frowned, “But they’ve been deemed part of the investigation, and I’ve never seen them. Sorry.”

“Hm.” Sam glanced at Dean, knowingly.

“Anything else you can tell us?” the elder asked, clicking his pen ‘off’, and sliding it into his breast pocket. “Anything about that woman, perhaps?”

“Well, she had nothing to do with it,” Dick frowned. 

“Even though she was naked?” 

Dean glanced at his brother, startled. He hadn’t remembered reading anything about _nudity_ … Sam had been reading all the juicy reports and keeping the fun details to himself. 

“Well. Yes.” Dick squirmed. “That might have been unrelated…”

“Nudity in night clubs isn’t _exactly_ normal,” Sam pointed out. “Especially since the security report suggests that they found women’s clothing shredded in the area of the hall of mirrors. Sure, it _could_ be unrelated, but…”

“She could have been attacked by the animal, if nothing else.” Dean suggested, kicking his brother’s calf out of sight from the desk. 

“True.” Dick considered that. “She didn’t have any wounds beyond several gunshot wounds and signs of an electrocution. It looks like she burned her hand pretty badly.”

“Hm, interesting,” Dean murmured. 

\---

“I got the pictures,” Sam tossed a few photos onto the table in front of Dean, on top of John’s journal. Tugging the knot of his tie loose, he sighed, and nodded at them. “Look familiar?”

“Shit, look at the size of that sucker,” Dean frowned, considering the pictures. “Biggest wolf I’ve seen.”

“Deadest wolf you’ve seen in awhile, too,” he sighed, tossing his tie onto the bed. “Keep flipping, you’ll see some autopsy photos… the shot the woman in the forehead… separated her head from her heart.”

“Ouch… that’s a nasty head wound.” 

“Yeah, no kidding.” Sam sighed, running his hand through his hair. “But some of these reports happen _after_ her death, so she wasn’t the only wolf in town.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Dean nodded, considering the photos, frowning. “Most times you have werewolves, you don’t just have one, you have a whole pack. Alpha, omega, the whole kit and caboodle. Sure, you know, they’re human most of the month, but they still act like wolves to an certain level. Besides the fact that it’s so very easy to transmit the curse…”

“Yeah,” Sam murmured, scratching at his palm. 

“Problem?” Dean smirked.

“No.” he muttered, and headed to the fridge, grabbing a pair of beer bottles, handing one silently to his brother and cracking the cap off the other before suggesting, “So how do you propose we track them down? It might be hard… these wolves seem to act a little different.”

“How so?” his brother frowned, cracking the cap off his bottle, sipping at it. 

“That first werewolf attack, the one with the cars and the woman who got ripped in half? Happened five days before the full moon. I’ve never heard of a werewolf attacking someone outside of the five days around the full moon…”

“Mmm, might have something to do with all the hormones they pump into the water in Holywood,” Dean smirked. “We have four days until the full moon, now, so I guess that means we should be looking out for new kills right away.”

“Nn,” he frowned. “Well… we’ll head out to Tinsel tomorrow, see what we can find.”

“Tinsel,” the other shook his head. “About the gayest sounding place I’ve ever heard of. Is that the _thing_ around here, to be a gay as humanely possible?”

Sam smirked. “Says the man who grabbed my _ass_ last year?”

“That wasn’t gay, that was _acting_ ,” he drawled, grinning. “And a fine bit of it, if I do say so myself.”

He shook his head. “ _You’re_ the ass.”

\---

“Ready to hit the club after this interview?” Dean smirked.

“Are you kidding? You’re doing the club bit!” Sam yelped. “There’s no way that I’m going to do that, I am going to sit in the hotel and research, _thank_ you very much, _you_ go into the club and interview people.”

His brother clapped his shoulder. “Not happening, pansy boy. You look fabulous enough to fit in.”

“Oh ha ha,” he grumbled at him. “No.”

“Sorry, Sammy boy, I’ve got some other interviews lined up already, it’s all yours. Now, we’re here.”

“I hate interviewing people at schools,” Sam grumbled, climbing out of the car, and adjusting his jacket. “And this guy is probably a jock, too, if we’re supposed to find him with the wrestling team…”

“And what’s the problem with that?” Dean glanced at him.

“I hate jocks,” he muttered.

“Sure you do,” he grinned, and looped his thumbs into his pockets, heading for the gymnasium using the directions he’d found on the school’s website the night before. Stepping inside, he looked around, considering it. “Heh, high school gyms. Home of mockery and discrimination.”

Sam shook his head, then nodded towards the bleachers. Two young men were sitting on the second bench up, talking, one dressed in wrestling gear, the other in an Incredible Hulk t-shirt. “That’s the kid.”

“…the jock, or the geek?”

“The geek,” he rolled his eyes, and headed over towards the bleachers. “Jimmy Myers?”

The curly haired kid looked up, surprised, and stood. His nostrils flared for a moment, and Sam was reminded of being a teenaged geek himself, every instinct working to ferret out the jocks before they had a chance to figure him out first. He stepped forward, arms crossed, awkwardly, and nodded. “Yeah, I’m Jimmy Myers… who are you?”

“Ronny James,” Dean pointed at himself, then Sam, “And Vinny Appice. Animal control officers.”

The other teenager stood, moving forward to stand beside Jimmy, frowning as he looked them up and down. “Funny, you don’t like members of Black Sabbath…”

The elder Winchester smirked, clearly impressed. “”Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We just had a couple questions for you, can we talk to you?”

“Practise. Sorry. Not happening,” the other frowned.

“Bo…” Jimmy muttered, flushed. “They’re like cops. We kinda have to talk to them, don’t we?”

The other grumbled, though Sam was relieved to hear the identification – knowing that he was Bo identified him as the best friend who had been present at the second werewolf attack, and therefore, another one that needed to be interviewed. “It will just take a few minutes, boys. We need to know what happened at Tinsel a few months ago.”

Bo looked like the question didn’t even bother him, but Jimmy paled, eyes widening.

“Is there somewhere we can talk a little more private? We just need a few minutes of your time,” Dean smiled disarmingly at them. 

“Yeah, c’mon,” Jimmy nodded, grabbing his backpack and tossing it over his shoulder. He ignored Bo’s displeased expression, and led him towards the back of the gym, to the corner furthest from the boys practicing their throws and flips. “You wanted to know about Tinsel, you said?” 

“Mmm. We’re investigating how a bear got into town,” Sam nodded, tugging out his pad again. “We understand that you two and your sister were at Tinsel when the animal attacked?”

“Bear?” Jimmy blinked.

“Yeah, _bear_ ,” Bo said, quickly, firmly. “We didn’t see anything.”

“I heard you were injured on that particular night, actually,” Dean looked up from his own notes, and it was Sam’s turn to give him a surprised, displeased look. “You weren’t bitten, were you?”

Jimmy shook his head, almost too fervently. “He wasn’t.”

“Good, it sucks to be bitten by anything. Especially… bears.” Dean drawled. 

Sam snorted. 

\---

“What the _fuck_ are you doing on the roof?”

Sam cleared his throat, squirming a little. He honestly wasn’t really sure what the hell was going on. So the night before had been late – the club investigation had been delayed by an impromptu interview with a police officer who claimed to have information about the attack in the parking garage, but late nights usually didn’t result in either of them waking up on the roof of their motel in his boxers.

Yet there Sam sat on the shingles, confused and embarrassed, mostly naked. 

“Um… honestly?” Sam flushed. “I have no idea.”

“Well, get _down_.”

“Sure. Ah… can you give me a hand?”

\---

Sam squirmed in his seat, scratching at his palm, wishing it wasn’t so itchy. Actually, he sort of felt weird all over, but if he focused on his itchy hand, it was easier than focusing on his aching back, or the fact that he seemed to be able to smell everything, or that he felt sort of temperamental. He felt like he was about to start screaming at someone one moment, or throwhimself out the window the next.

It was… unsettling.

“It’s the full moon tonight… you ready to brave the club by yourself tonight? Fend off all the she-wolves with a stick?” Dean smirked, dropping into the seat across from him. 

“Funny, Dean.” Sam glowered at him.

“I thought so,” he laughed, sipping at a paper cup of coffee, and leaning forward to set another in front of Sam. “There have been a few more reports of wolves along Mulholland in the last two months, so I’m going to stake out that road tonight, just in case. So you’re going to have to handle the bar by yourself. If werewolves really do like to frequent that place, you might be able to find them.”

He nodded, leaning back in his seat, cracking the lid off his coffee, considering it. “Yeah, maybe.”

“What… don’t want to be separated from me?” he smirked, mischievously. 

“Dick,” Sam sighed.

“Pansy.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

\---

Feeling very out of place, Sam stepped into Tinsel, frankly relieved he’d managed to get in despite the crowd. He’d always sort of figured that once a club had gotten over the first month of popularity and celebrity status, that it got sort of boring and passé, mostly just attractive for regular rich kids. But despite the fact that there didn’t seem to be any A-list celebrities, there were a few C-listers that he recognized, and it was one of those he slipped in after into the crowded club. 

Ordering a grossly overpriced drink from one of the several bars, he sipped at it and slipped through the bar. 

It seemed… over done. There were wax statues of celebrities everywhere, which seemed like an odd choice for décor, but at least it was unique. Slipping through the house of mirrors, he finally found himself in a room that made him laugh in its irony alone – a room devoted entirely to the old Wolfman franchise.

Leaning on a little display case – with a silver wolfs-head cane in it – he considered the room. 

Pretty impressive, really, that this place was still going, considering the owner had gone missing a few months ago. Coincidentally, it had been on the same night that the werewolf had ripped this place to pieces… it if weren’t for the fact that the owner was a _man_ , he would have suspected he’d been the werewolf that was shot in here at the time.

Sighing, he sipped at his drink, then hesitated, glancing at the woman walking through the room.

She was shorter than the type of girls he normally went for, but she had the long, pin straight dark hair, and a look of confidence and control. And as she walked quickly through the room, she paused, turning to look back at Sam.

He wasn’t really sure why he stepped forward to greet her. He was _supposed_ to be asking around if anyone remembered the night of the shooting of the werewolf, he was _supposed_ to be asking if anyone had seen Jake, the owner. He was _not_ supposed to be walking up to her, grinning, asking her if he could buy her a drink, smiling at her with an ease that just didn’t make sense. As much as it didn’t make any sense, she smelled _amazing_.

“Ellie,” he smiled, shaking her hand. “What a nice name.”

She smiled back at him, faintly, though the look she was giving him spoke of hunger and desire. “And what did you say your name was?”

“Sam,” he said, shifting a little closer to her. 

“Sam,” she murmured, touching his arm. “You seem to be a very… interesting man, Sam. You wanna get out of here?”

 _No_ , his common sense said loudly. (Funny, his common sense sounded like Dean.)

“Yes,” his mouth said, at once. 

Ellie smiled, pleased, and slid her fingers down his forearm to brush her fingertips across the back of his hand, then sauntered away from the bar, out of the room and towards the exit. 

Sam followed like a puppy on a string, a vague buzzing of panic in the back of his mind reminding him that he had no idea who she was and that he had no idea what he was doing or where they were going, and he _should_ be calling Dean or getting the hell out of there, but his blood seemed to be singing in his veins, and the buzzy panic was washed out by the eagerness of going wherever it was Ellie was taking him.

\---

They kissed with a fevered, desperate passion, bumping into walls and doorways as they tumbled along, helpless to the desire between them. Ellie tore at his shirt, buttons flying as she ripped seam from seam, throwing aside the scraps of fabric.

Groaning, Sam pinned her against the bricks, nipping at her lips.

Ellie bucked her hips, and shoved him back, then reversed their positions, pinning him to the wall with her much smaller body, but she didn’t seem about to let her smaller size hamper her, as she raked her nails down his chest and sides, grinding against him impatiently.

Their clothing seemed to melt off of them in their desperation, and she fairly growled as she nipped at his jaw, feverishly.

“Ellie…” he groaned.

“C’mon, Sam,” she panted, eyes bright and feverish as she shoved him to his back on the ground, crawling on top of him, straddling his thighs as she kept nipping, biting at his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. “What are you waiting for?”

He growled, fingers digging into her hips as he rolled them over again, then froze. Until that moment, all of his attention had been focused on pleasure. But the pain searing up his spine was so terrible it made him stop, gasping down at her. Concern flickered across her face, and she asked, “Sam?”

Rolling off of her, back on the carpet, Sam gasped in pain. “Fuck…”

“Are you okay?” she leaned over him, her hair hanging down to brush his chest. 

“No,” he panted.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Ellie frowned, cupping his jaw with one hand, trying to assess the problem. “Did I do something?”

“No,” he panted, the pain in his spine gone, but pain now rippling through his hands and feet.

“Sam,” she grabbed his hands, then froze. “Oh no…”

“What is – nngh… what is it?”

“You have the mark of the beast,” she murmured, glancing up at his eyes. “Your first moon?”

“What….?” He panted.

Ellie kissed him again, ignoring the soft cry of pain that Sam let out as he arched, his veins standing out starkly across his chest and forehead, eyes flicking from hazel to gold, pupils flickering. “Accept the changes,” she whispered. “It’s so much easier if you don’t fight it…”

Sam arched, screaming in pain as his chest expanded and his whole body grew, ears shifting up from the side of his head, stretching out. 

“Soon, Sam…” Ellie promised, her own eyes flaring gold, her teeth growing. 

“No….” he keened.

“Accept it. Run with me,” she ordered, firmly, watching as his face shifted, and he shifted into the wolf.

\---


	3. The Beast You've Made of Me, Part Three

**The Beast You've Made of Me**   


 

Sam had opened his eyes to some strange sights before. Blame it on the hunting, blame it on the demons, blame it on his brother. Whatever the cause, he’d opened his eyes to mirrors, to creatures, to stars… to a great many things. 

What he did _not_ expect, that morning, to open his eyes to, was the face of the teenaged boy he’d interviewed the day before.

“…Jimmy?”

“Dare I ask what you are doing on my lawn?”

He blinked, and sat up, the teenager shifting back and out of the way as he did, and Sam frowned, running a hand through his hair. There were a lot of _leaves_ in it, which was kinda odd… and even stranger was the fact that he was naked. _And_ there was a strangely familiar equally naked woman lying among the ferns beside him. 

“…what the…” Sam blinked again.

Ellie snorted, and sat up, yawning. Shoulders hunched, she scratched at the ground like a dog might, then smiled at them both. “Morning, Jimmy.”

“Morning, Ellie.” He crouched beside them, considering them both. “…good night, huh?”

She swatted at him. “Go back inside.”

He smirked. “Hey, I’m the one with the blackmail material here. My sister and some guy naked in the back yard…”

Ellie snorted. 

Sam shifted slightly, trying to cover up a little so that it was less obvious that he was, in fact, naked. It was awkward enough, but… “Wait… you’re Ellie _Myers_?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And?”

“The one who reported the incident at Tinsel in March?” He ran his hand through his hair. “With the large animal?”

“The werewolf.” She said, bluntly. 

Jimmy’s head snapped to his sister, and his jaw dropped. He clearly couldn’t believe she’d just _said_ that. “Ellie!”

Sam gaped at her.

“Well, it’s not like I have to pretend that we’re _normal_ , Jimmy,” she reached over to take Sam’s left hand, spreading it out flat. Sam hadn’t noticed, because of the scars that he already had on his hands, but… there were in fact five small “spots” on his palm, as though someone had stabbed his palm several times, or possibly burned him in several places. Using her fingertip, she traced the shape of a five pointed store from each of the dots. “The mark of the beast.”

“ _Ellie_! You’re not supposed to infect people!” Jimmy gaped at her.

“I did not!” she yelped. “He was already infected!”

“I’m a werewolf,” Sam murmured, horror welling up in his guts, eyes focused on the mark. All he could think was that he was now a monster. He was now the very thing he’d had to kill a month ago, a ravenous beast who couldn’t control his actions at least once a month. 

Dean would have to kill him.

“Yeah, welcome to the club,” Jimmy sighed. “S’not that bad, except for the hair problem.”

Ellie stood, shaking leaves out of her hair. “Coming in, Sam?”

He looked up, and shook his head. “I gotta get… home.”

“Well…” she hesitated. “…you’re naked. And your car is back at Tinsel. I can at least lend you something to get you home.”

“…good point.”

\---

“Thanks for coming,” Jimmy sat down on his bed, hands folded awkwardly in his lap, biting his lip. “I know it’s kinda early, but…”

Bo yawned, stretching slightly before he flopped on the bed beside his best friend. “It’s _very_ early, Jimmy, let’s not lie about this. So why the 9-11 call and the panic? I mean, if it’s that chemistry assignment, I already told you that I’d help you do it…”

“Remember those animal control guys that came to interview us at school?” he interrupted him.

He nodded, stifling another yawn. “Hot guys, fake names?”

Jimmy nodded, shivering slightly. “Yeah, them.”

“What about them?”

“One of them’s a wolf. Like me and Ellie.” He shifted slightly on the bed. “The tall one.”

“The one that looked kinda cave-man-y?”

“You thought he looked like a cave man?” he blinked, glancing over at his friend. “I thought he looked a bit like a sasquatch, kinda super tall and ridiculously over-proportioned… wait…not the point. Look, he’s a werewolf.”

“So?” Bo flopped back on the bed, arms folded behind his head. 

“So… he slept with Ellie.”

The other let out a yelp of surprise, bolting up. “No _way_!”

“Yeah!”

“But she never sleeps with anyone! Not since the whole Jake thing! She’s been the alpha ice bitch queen about all of it!” Bo gaped at his friend. “She wouldn’t even sleep with _Kyle_ , and he wants her more than fucking oxygen!”

“I know.” Jimmy nodded, resting his chin on one of his knees that he had tugged up against his chest. “And now she’s kinda… happy.”

“Like… dude I got laid happy, or scary ‘Steven King villainess’ happy?” Bo frowned.

“She’s cooking. And humming.”

Bo gaped at him. “….holy crap.”

“I know,” he nodded.

“The apocalypse has begun.”

“I _know_!”

“Cats will lie down with dogs! All the baby daddies on Maury will suddenly start claiming their children! Twilight will suddenly be good, and Bella will pick Jacob!”

Jimmy snorted, and flopped on the bed beside his friend, grinning at him. “You just want the werewolf.”

Bo wiggled his eyebrows. “Obviously.”

“Hey, hey, you remember the deal,” he sighed, though he was smirking slightly. “There’s no such thing as safe sex with a werewolf. S’why I had to break up with Brooke. S’why we can’t think about any of your crazy ideas, no matter how drunk you might have gotten me at that football game.”

The other laughed softly, and shifted onto his side, chin resting in his hand. “You broke up with Brooke because she has great tits and no brain.”

Jimmy flushed. “You wouldn’t know great tits if they came up and bit you in the ass.”

“Tits don’t have teeth. Not last I heard, anyway. There are some rumours flying around about vagina dentate, but I’m not really about to investigate that one for myself, thanks. Besides, I _do_ have eyes, and she _did_ have no brain.”

He hesitated, then admitted, “Well… that’s true.”

“Toldja,” he smirked.

“You practically threw me at her!” Jimmy laughed, swatting Bo’s arm. “Remember?”

“Well, _yeah_ , cause if I couldn’t have you, getting you together with a girl I’d pretended to be with for awhile was the next best thing.” He smirked, amused. “So, back to the reason you woke me up at an ungodly hour for a Saturday morning, what does this mean, you think? Think this means your sister’s found her mate?”

“Oh god, I doubt it.” He blinked. “No way.”

“Okay.” He shrugged.

“Well, except…”

“Except?”

Jimmy hesitated, considering the idea. “I mean, you know Ellie, she’s pretty… independent. Doesn’t date, doesn’t hang out with other wolves, or frankly anyone in her peer group… kinda… bitchy.”

Bo nodded, considering that. 

“But she really… seemed to like this guy.”

“Maybe she _did_?” he shrugged, reaching up to pluck a leaf out of his friend’s hair. “What’s this?”

“Oh, Sam and Ellie were out in the lawn, musta gotten some green in there.”

“Sam, huh?”

He nodded. “That’s his real name. Sam.”

“And the other guy?”

“Didn’t get a ton of details, he and Ellie were busy making googley eyes at each other over the table while trying to pretend they weren’t making googley eyes at each other over the table. It was stupid, really, he was being all freaked out first time wolf, she was being all overprotective alpha wolf… and I was sitting there like a moron trying to pretend they _weren’t_ both trying to suppress the desire to do each other right there. Again.”

Bo snorted. 

“Did get a couple things, though… the other guy’s his brother. Denny, or something like that. They came looking for us.”

Brows furrowed, he asked, “Because this Sam guy was about to turn and needed to find other wolves?”

“I dunno,” Jimmy admitted.

\---

“Nice shirt,” Dean grinned when he opened the motel room door for Sam. “Where are your keys?”

“No idea,” he muttered. “Good thing you had the car.”

Slipping past Dean into the room, he tugged off said “I (gun) Zombies” shirt, and sank to sit on the bed, wishing the only jeans Ellie had had would have fit him at least a _little_ bit better. These were almost painfully tight. “I need to talk to you.”

Dean grinned at him. “About how awesome a night you had?”

“I went running naked through the woods.” He said, bluntly, glowering up at his brother.

“Sounds kinky.” He grinned.

“I was a wolf at the time.” Sam said, feeling cold.

Dean froze, his cheerful smile disappearing instantly. “…what?”

He held up his hand, fingers spread. “Mark of the beast, Dean. Apparently… there’s no such thing as safe sex with a werewolf. Madison infected me.”

Sitting slowly on the bed across from Sam, he said slowly, “You’re infected.”

“Yeah.” Sam murmured. “So you have to shoot me.”

“ _No_.”

He had sort of expected Dean to refuse, so he scowled at his brother, crossing his arms, and muttered, “You have to, Dean. Remember what happened, last month, when we had the whole Madison thing? I’ve turned into a _beast_ , Dean. Some kind of monster. I can’t be stopped, I can’t be controlled. You _have_ to kill me.”

“ _No_ ,” he said again, fiercely. “We’ll find a cure.”

“We _looked_ for a cure, remember? We couldn’t _find_ one. We killed off the head of the line, and it did nothing, and then I slept with her, and I got _infected_. So I’ll be me most of the month, and a thing that kills people the rest of the time. Funny, I thought this was what we _did_ , Dean, we hunted things, and saved people from those things that were trying to kill them. So, hmm, guess that means you have to kill me.”

The expression on Dean’s face was almost frightening. It was intense, and furious. “Sam fucking Winchester, you listen to me. I will _not_ kill you.”

He sighed, and opened his mouth to speak, but his brother cut him off.

“ _No_. if it takes a lifetime, we will _find_ the cure. I will lock you up every full moon, and you will not hurt people, and that’s all there is to it. We will stick together. And we will beat this thing. Do you understand me?”

Sam closed his eyes. “Dean…”

“ _Do. You. Understand. Me._ ”

The younger Winchester reluctantly opened his eyes, crossing his arms, displeased. “…so you’re going to string me along, and torture me for months while you search for a cure with no hope and when you finally give up, you’re going to have to kill me _anyway_?”

“We will _find_ a cure.” He snapped, lower jaw jutted forward. “Understand me?”

His shoulders slumped, and Sam murmured, “Okay, Dean.”

Dean nodded, and tugged his brother forward, hugging him tightly against his chest. “Good. We’ll figure this out.”

“…yeah.”

“We _will_.”

“Okay.” Sam muttered.

Dean reluctantly let him go, then sat back, jaw working as he swallowed, gritting his teeth. “How’d you find out?”

He squirmed. “I investigated Tinsel, and found Ellie Myers.”

“Oh!” he perked up a little. “That’s good.”

“Yeah. Good.” He squirmed, clearing his throat. “So, ah… long story short, I turned. So… now we know.”

Dean blinked at him. 

“…what?”

“….you just yadda yadda yadda’d me.”

“I what now?” Sam blinked, confused.

Dean shook his head, and stood. “Okay, seriously… you just… _turned_? Did you – shit, is _she_ okay?!”

“She’s fine,” he said quickly.

“Are you _sure_? You _turned_ in front of her!”

“In my defense, she kinda helped me.” Sam muttered, scratching at his jaw, squirming. 

“She what?” Dean froze, then groaned as he realized what exactly it was Sam _wasn’t_ saying. Reaching up to rub at the bridge of his nose, he muttered, “She’s a werewolf, isn’t she?”

“…yeah.”

“…and she’s fine.”

“I wasn’t exactly about to kill her, Dean.” He sighed. “I’ve been there, I’ve done that, and you know, it still didn’t solve the problem.”

“…so you wanted me to kill you, and leave her and her brother – who is _probably_ a wolf too, isn’t he?!” he demanded, glancing at his brother, who reluctantly nodded. “Great! You wanted me to leave them alone to run around killing people while I kill _you_?!”

“They don’t eat people,” he muttered.

“Oh sure, they’re vegetarians!”

“No… really. They don’t eat people.” Sam sighed, leaning back. “I guess you could call them… enlightened modern werewolves. They spend a fortune at the butcher, but…”

“…they just eat a lot of t-bones?”

“…raw.” He nodded. 

“Like… what, all month?” Dean blinked.

“Yeah. Um.” He hesitated. “Apparently… we had some facts wrong. Wolves… aren’t limited to the full moon.”

“What, you get bitten by some freaky chick and now you’re a lycanthropy expert?” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seriously?”

“I could show you?” Sam offered.

Dean held up a hand, quickly. “Spare me the horror of seeing my brother turn into a monster, thanks.”

He flinched.

Sighing, he muttered, “You’re not a monster, Sam.”

“Sure.” He growled, bitterly.

“You’re not. Now. I really think we need to meet the Myers.”

Sam looked up sharply. 

“What, you don’t want to introduce me to the bitch?”

“Dean!”

“Technical term, Sammy.” Dean grinned. “Can’t get mad at me for being scientific.”

\---

“So.” Dean said, finally. “This isn’t awkward at all.”

Bo snorted, rolling his eyes.

It really _was_ awkward. It was like a Mexican standoff, with Ellie sitting on the couch, Jimmy at her side, Bo on Jimmy’s other side. Sam and Dean sat on dining room chairs across the coffee table from them, awkward in the stiff backed chairs. Zipper sat in the doorway of the living room, growling every once in awhile, softly.

“Okay, look… we _did_ come to California looking for you.” Sam leaned forward, frowning. “Or… well, not _you_ , but whichever werewolf has been killing people.”

“That was Joanie,” Ellie said, stonily, arms crossed over her chest. “She’s dead.”

“We noticed,” Dean smirked, smile fading when she glowered fiercely at him. “Hoo. But some wolf _has_ been killing people since. We came here looking for _that_ wolf.”

“It wasn’t one of us,” Jimmy shrugged.

“Hell,” Bo said, arms crossed as he slumped back in the corner of the couch. “I’m not even a wolf.”

Dean glanced sharply at him. Was it just him, or did the young man seem kind of resentful over the fact that he wasn’t a werewolf? “But there _is_ a wolf killing people. And that has to stop.”

“So tell them to stop it.” Jimmy shrugged.

“It’s not as easy as all that,” Sam pointed out. “In a sense, the werewolf that’s killing people is the… supernatural world’s equivalent of a serial killer. A lot of unnatural things kill people, and naturally they have to be stopped. Ghouls, demons, chupacabras, windigos. They’re kind of like rabid dogs. They have to be destroyed.”

Jimmy winced, glancing at Zipper, whose floppy ears quirked forward at him. 

“But a werewolf is different,” Dean picked up the story. “They are human most of the time. They become a beast, but they’re still a person. But they still can’t kill people, even if they go all feral wild sometimes.”

“We don’t go ‘feral wild’,” Ellie said firmly, still clearly displeased. “We’re still in control, we just have instincts to run and hunt. We’re still _people_ , just people with claws and preternatural strength.”

“And sex allure,” her brother piped in. “Unnatural sexual allure.”

“Sure,” Bo smirked.

Dean hesitated. “Really? You’re _sure_?”

Ellie snorted. “Of course I’m sure. Ask your brother.”

“…Sammy?”

He hesitated, then murmured, “Yeah, Dean. I mean… some of it’s kinda… fuzzy. But yeah, I was still in control.”

Dean leaned back, heavily. “…shit.”

“What?” Ellie frowned. 

“You and your damn grey moral areas, Sammy,” he grumbled. “Fuck. So Madison…”

“ _Knew_ that she was killing people, yeah,” Sam muttered.

“Whose Madison?” the only woman in the room asked sharply, and her brother and his best friend exchanged meaningful looks.

“Madison was a werewolf, like you guys.” Dean muttered.

“Was?”

“I killed her,” Sam muttered. “Because she was killing people. She told me she didn’t remember doing it, that she didn’t want to be a monster, that it was… that she… fuck.” 

“She’s the one who infected you.” Ellie said, quietly.

He nodded, eyes squeezed shut, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. I – _fuck_. I believed her, when she told she didn’t remember it. I _believed_ her, because I didn’t want to think that this sweet woman was a monster who could murder people she knew in cold blood.”

“You murdered her in cold blood,” Bo pointed out.

Sam looked up, blinking at him, and Dean snarled, “Watch it, kid.”

“No.” Bo leaned forward. “I won’t. Look, you took some kind of justice into your own hands, and you killed her. Now she’s dead, you’re a werewolf, and your brother’s not. And you came here to kill Jimmy and Ellie. But now you feel guilty about it because _you_ suddenly got furry and haven’t got the balls to kill yourself.”

“I won’t let him kill himself.” Dean said coldly, voice sharp enough to cut. “And the situation just got a lot more complicated than expected.”

“You do hunt werewolves though, don’t you?” Jimmy looked back and forth between them.

Sam sighed. “Once. And this time. Sometimes it’s vampires. Ghosts. Phantoms in lakes. Haunted cars. Bloody Mary. If it’s killing people, we stop it.”

“…you’re like Buffy.” He looked absolutely _thrilled_ by this idea. “Only like… Starsky and Hutch, if they were slayers! That is _awesome_!”

“They were going to _kill_ you, Jimmy!” Bo gaped at him.

“Yeah, but if you’re gonna be hunted because you have the mark of the beast, dude, I wanna be hunted by the male Buffy Starsky and Hutch guys!” he grinned. “Have you got an awesome car, too, and a Huggy Bear guy? Or do you have like… a Giles somewhere?”

“…Giles?” Dean repeated, starting to feel very out of his depth.

“You know, an old guy with a library who gives you missions and says things like ‘this is grave’ and ‘the world is going to end next Tuesday’ and stuff!”

“Jimmy…” Ellie sighed. 

“We call ours Bobby,” Sam smirked faintly.

“Sweet.” Jimmy grinned. “Can we go hunting with them?”

“Oh no, not happening,” Dean leaned forward, quickly.

“Jimmy, there are very important things we need to talk about, and none of them involve _hunting_ ,” Ellie said, firmly.

“But it would be so awesome! We could kick so much monster ass with three werewolves!”

Sam hesitated. “That’s actually… _not_ a terrible idea…”

“No.” Dean said firmly, at the same time as Ellie.

“Aw, c’mon, Ellie…” Jimmy whined.

“I really think we should _talk_ about this before you go making decisions for all of us,” Sam growled to his brother, displeased.

“Not happening.”

“Not a chance.”

\---

“How in hell did you talk me into this?”

Sam smirked faintly, setting his duffle down on his bed. Unzipping it, he searched the bag for the salt. “With superior reasoning?”

“Bullshit. You must have hypnotized me. You haven’t been swinging pocket watches in my face when I’m distracted, have you?”

“Scouts honour,” Sam smirked.

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Dean grumbled, digging in his bag, then stopped and looked up, frowning. “They don’t know what they’re doing! They have never shot a gun in their lives, god, that Ellie barely knows how to shoot _mace_!”

“And yet she can shift into a six hundred pound monster capable of ripping your head off.” He pointed out. “That can heal like an X-Men and is practically bulletproof. I kinda prefer having that in my corner than something else.”

“The Colt could still take her down,” he muttered.

“It can take anything down,” Sam agreed, running his hand through his hair. “But I think the point is that we have more people in our corner now. It… might actually be easier for us to track down Yellow Eyes now.”

“How?” Dean scoffed. “By drawing more attention to ourselves so that you can have a girlfriend?!”

“I thought we were looking for a cure, Dean. Don’t you think she might like one too?”

He turned away from his brother, fussing with one of the guns, as though trying to pretend he hadn’t heard the question. Finally, reluctantly, he said, “I guess… that makes sense. I just… we travel together, Sam. Family.”

“Maybe they do too,” Sam murmured. “Besides, this isn’t really a _hunt_. It’s a… ‘going to Bobby’s so they can help us research’ thing.”

“….it’s not gonna turn _into_ a hunt, is it?”

“No.” He hesitated. “Probably not.”

\---

  



	4. The Beast You've Made of Me, Part Four

**The Beast You've Made of Me**

“You are a terrible liar.”

Sam laughed. There was blood smeared all over his face, which made some sense, as there was blood all over Ellie and Jimmy too, and what little remained of the thing that may or may not have been a Jersey devil really wasn’t going to be attacking any more campers. “I said _probably_ , Dean. You got those towels?”

The eldest Winchester sighed, and pushed off the hood of the Impala to lean in the back window, tugging out several towels. “Get all that off. I don’t want blood on the seats.”

“Thanks,” Sam scrubbed his face clean, shaking his head several times. 

Ellie accepted one of the towels from Dean, silently, watching her brother as he headed back towards the red Mustang parked behind the Impala. Bo handed Jimmy a towel of his own, then spoke quietly to the other man as Jimmy cleaned himself up.

“I half expect you to put your ears forward, when you do that.”

She looked up sharply at Dean, frowning. “What?”

“When you watch him, trying to figure out what they’re talking about.” He waved at Bo and Jimmy. “It’s okay if your brother has his own life, you know.”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. 

Ellie rolled her eyes, scrubbing some of the blood off of her jaw. “I’m letting him have his own life. He dropped out of school to do this, didn’t he?”

“Sure.” Dean shrugged. “Got a problem with your brother being gay?”

“What?” she snapped, eyes narrowed at him again. 

“Woah, Ellie…” Sam pushed her back, gently. “Seriously, this is getting a little too – “

She snapped at him, teeth bared.

Sam’s jaw snapped up, baring his throat, and he stopped talking instantly.

Dean blinked, looking back and forth between the two of them, then started roaring in laughter, falling back against the side of the car as he leaned on it to stay upright, bending almost double as he roared in laughter.

“What?!” Ellie snapped, pissed.

“You just – he just – you _dominated_ – fuck… Sammy, you is _whipped_!”

Sam flushed. “Dean, it’s not like…”

“She’s your _alpha_!” he roared in laughter, actually crying as he laughed, hand curled over the edge of the doorframe. “Fuck, that’s poetic!”

“What’s his problem?” Jimmy blinked, padding over to them. 

“He’s being a bitch.” Sam muttered.

\---

Dean blinked when he opened the door, a little confused to see Bo standing on the other side, thumbs hooked in his pockets, looking very out of place. “…yeah?”

“Can I talk to you?”

He sighed, and stepped back letting Bo into the room. He’d just been going through the entire collection of guns, cleaning every single one of them, again. He seemed to be doing it more lately – either because he was frustrated that having three werewolves following them kind of took care of anything that guns would normally shoot; or because that was always what he did when Sam wasn’t around, and Sam always seemed to be out, lately. 

“Nice collection.” Bo considered the table. “Little Washington Sniper, but…”

“Did you want something?” he snapped, sitting.

“Yeah.” He sat across from Dean, considering the table, then clearly delayed himself from his own question by asking, “You need some help with these?”

“No offense, but I really don’t need some kid fucking up my guns.”

Bo scowled, and leaned forward to pick up a berretta, neatly taking it apart, and setting the pieces in front of him on the table. “My dad is a major ‘red blooded American man’ type of guy, and when he got the slightest inkling that I might not have been quite as macho as he wanted when I was a kid, he decided to try and get me into guns. Nothing more manly than handguns, right?”

Dean snorted, but looked impressed, and handed Bo a rag. “Oil’s there, left side of the table is done, right side needs work.”

He nodded, and set to work on the berretta, since it was so handily apart anyway.

“So you wanted to talk.”

“…yeah.” He frowned slightly. “Jimmy said… he said Sam told him you two were looking for a cure.”

Dean nodded, not looking up.

“…any luck?”

He hesitated, finally glancing up at Bo, considering his hopeful expression. “…no.”

Bo’s shoulders slumped.

Setting the desert eagle he’d been working down on the table, Dean considered him thoughtfully. They were the only two humans in the group. And while he thought Bo was a spoiled brat with a superiority complex, he had to admit that the kid _was_ smart. Sometimes a little _too_ smart. “Tryin’ to cure Jimmy?”

He shrugged, one shouldered, focused on a non-existent speck of dirt.

“Kid won’t do anything ‘cause he doesn’t want to infect you, I got it right?” Dean ventured.

Bo hesitated, then nodded.

“Yeah.” Dean murmured. “Well… maybe you need to trick him, or something. Piss him off. Get him to bite you. Cause at this rate… we’re never going to find a cure. And if we do… well, fine. We’ll fix us all.”

“All?” Bo frowned, considering him. “You’re not cursed.”

“Sure I am.” He smirked. “Just not with the mark of the beast.”

Shaking his head, the teenager carefully oiled the gun, then murmured, “I just… he thinks it’s the werewolf thing. But it’s not, it’s… there’s a lot more to it. And I don’t want the fact that Jimmy has a… problem refraining from pissing on fire hydrants to stop this.”

Dean snorted. 

\---

“You know, you’re the second hunter to ask about werewolves today.”

Dean glanced back from the framed picture of the Oracle of Delphi, frowning. “Really?”

Melissa Hellabore nodded, barely looking up from the heavy leather bound book she was studying to glance at him. “Yeah. Kind of an odd coincidence, if you ask me.”

He hesitated. “…were they asking for cures?”

She snorted, finally looking up. “Hell no, Dean. He wanted to hunt them. There’s been a strange rash of supernatural things being killed across the country, all looking like werewolf kills. For some reason, some hunters see this as something they’re supposed to hunt muscling in on their territory. Far as I know, you’re the only one who wants to _cure_ werewolves.”

“…you didn’t tell him that, did you?”

“Do I look like a moron?” she arched a brow, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Hello. Besides, I don’t even know why you want to find this cure.”

“My baby brother got infected.”

Melissa hissed, closing the book, and setting it on the desk. “Damn. Sammy got infected? Bad luck. Betcha he must be twelve feet tall when he shifts.”

“About eleven, but yeah,” he smiled faintly. 

She shook her head, and grabbed the handles beside her, wheeling her chair out from under her desk, rolling across the office, grabbing another book off the shelf. “It was Bobby that sent you my way this time, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Hm. I do my oracle thing for any hunter that asks, but I got a special place in my heart for Bobby. He’s the reason I’m in this chair, and not pushing up daisies. So I did a bit of extra work… I’m sorry, Dean.” Melissa looked up, sighing softly. “There are a ton of folk cures, but… none of them have ever worked. There are some rumours that witches can sometimes break the curse, but…”

“I hate witches,” he muttered.

“Preaching to the choir, Dean. I’ll keep looking, but…”

“Yeah.” He muttered, pushing off the mantle. “Thanks, Mel.”

“I’ll call you if I find anything,” she smiled faintly, pushing her glasses up her nose again. 

He nodded, and waved, slipping out of the house.

Melissa sighed, then looked up as the door at the back of her little library opened. Gordon Walker slipped out of the room, with an almost devious grin. “I suppose you heard what you wanted to hear?” she muttered, displeased.

He laughed. “Better than.”

“Then get out of my house,” she muttered, rolling towards her desk again, hands trembling as she tried to act normally, one hand sliding down to curl her fingers around the handle of the gun tucked in beside her useless right leg. “I hate the smell of threats.”

“I’ll see you again, Mel.” He grinned, shoving his own gun in the back of his pants.

“Out, Gordon.”

“Yes ma’am,” he drawled, still grinning as he left the house.

\---

Bo took a deep breath, then slid carefully out of his bed, and padded across the short space between his bed and Jimmy’s, then crawled into the bed with his best friend – the boy he _wished_ was his boyfriend. His wolf. 

Jimmy shifted in his sleep, curling closer to Bo’s warmth, hopefully. 

Reaching up to brush his hair back, gently, fingers tangled in the other’s messy curls, Bo pressed his lips gently to the other’s soft, cracked lips. If he’d told Jimmy once, he’d told him a thousand times to stop chewing on his lip, but he did it anyway. He guessed, as he finally got to slowly move his lips against the other’s, that it was something of what made Jimmy… well, _Jimmy_.

The werewolf groaned softly in his sleep, squirming closer to the human, like moving with instinct.

“Jimmy,” Bo whispered, cupping his jaw. “I love yo-”

He was cut off with a gasp as the other suddenly surged forward and onto him, pinning Bo to the bed. Startled, he blinked up at his best friend, whose eyes were _definitely_ open and very awake as he looked down at him, growling slightly. “…Jimmy?”

“Me too,” he growled softly, then crushed his lips against Bo’s.

Groaning, he arched up, eagerly, tangling his fingers in those rumpled curls, eyelids flickering, toes curling. Jimmy kissed the other firmly, deeply, fervently, then pulled back, gasping for breath, and murmured, “You sure you really wanna make this choice?”

“I made it months ago, Jimmy. _Years_ ago, if you’d been a werewolf when I first fell in love with you.”

“Wow.” He breathed, eyes wide.

“Yeah, wow.” Bo grinned, kissing his best friend again, firmly. “I mean, for god’s sake, Jimmy, you talk in your sleep. How many times do you need to torture me by calling me your _mate_ in your sleep before you finally pull your head out of your ass and turn me already?”

Jimmy flushed. “…really?”

“Uh, _yeah_ , Jimmy. You call me your _mate_. And then do this long, low moan thing. Dammit, you know how many times I’ve gotten off on you talking in your sleep?”

He blinked several times, surprised.

“Yeah. So Jimmy Myers… my sweet, geeky, idiotic little wolf boy…” he kissed him again, softly. “Just fucking _turn_ me already.”

“…okay.” He whispered.

“…okay?” he repeated, blinking. “That was easier than expected.”

Jimmy laughed softly, eyes flickering from brown to gold. “I love you too, Bo.”

Bo smiled at him, but somehow still didn’t see it coming when Jimmy swooped down to sink his teeth – longer and sharper than a humans teeth – into the junction of Bo’s shoulder and neck, making the jock cry out, arching into the bite.

\---

“Bite me.”

“Funny, Dean.” Sam muttered, rolling away from his brother, hunching his shoulders. “I’m really tired, let me sleep in peace.”

Dean scowled, and grabbed Sam’s shoulder, tugging him back onto his back. “I’m serious, Sam.”

“Serious about what?” he groaned, half sitting up, leaning on his elbows. “Cause I’m serious about being tired and wanting to actually get some goddamn sleep.”

“Bite me.”

“Bite you what – no.” Sam paled, and he scrambled up. “ _No_ , Dean.”

“Why the hell not?” he growled. “This isn’t fair.”

“Being _cursed_ isn’t like a club or something, Dean! Do you know how hard it is?! I’m not human anymore! I have to fight my instincts to kill when I see weak things! And that includes _people_! I get why some wolves go rogue! It’s _easy_ to think of humans as prey!”

“Then it should be easy to bite me.” Dean growled, rolling up his sleeve. 

“Not a fucking chance.” He rolled out of bed, putting it between them. “There is no way in this world that I will bite you, Dean. That is not happening.”

“There is no goddamn cure, Sammy. Fucking bite me.”

“If there’s no cure, you have to shoot me.”

“No.”

“Then if you won’t shoot me, if I won’t bite you, I think we have a problem.”

Dean hesitated. “We do.”

\---

Gordon was settled in the bushes around the motel, rifle resting across his knees as he watched the window of the room that was supposed to be Dean and Sam’s, though Sam never seemed to be in the room much. 

Dean was pacing, and the vampire hunter shook his head. He didn’t normally hunt werewolves, but when those werewolves killed his vampire targets and when one of them happened to be Sam fucking Winchester, who he would go to the ends of the earth and back to find an excuse to get rid of… well. Then he could be a werewolf hunter for awhile.

Taking another swig of the small flask he kept in his jacket, he kept watching, muttering to himself every once in while.

“I’ll save you from yourself, Dean… believe me, you’ll thank me.”

\---

“Bite me.”

Jimmy blinked up at Dean, confused. “Excuse me?”

Dean grit his teeth, and thrust his arm at the kid again. “You heard me. _Bite me_.”

“Uh… I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, besides the fact that Sam would kill me, _Ellie_ would kill me for adding to the pack without her permission. Death. Murder. Dismemberment, probably. All sorts of… is that a gun?”

“It is,” Dean nodded, checking the clip, then sliding it back into place and priming it. “Oh, do go on.”

“….you’re not _really_ gonna shoot me, are you?”

“I dunno, Jimmy…” he mused over that, considering him. “I mean, I’m a hunter whose only brother got infected by the things we hunt… I guess you could say I’m a little desperate.”

He swallowed. “….but… I’m your buddy, right?”

He snorted, and set the muzzle against Jimmy’s forehead. “What’s it gonna be, kid?”

\---

Sam sighed, one arm behind his head, the other hand running through Ellie’s hair. She was lying on her stomach beside him, her head on his collarbone, gently silent in the aftermath. 

“Is something wrong?” she murmured, tracing Sam’s muscles with her fingertips.

“Dean asked me to turn him.” 

She looked up, considering Sam, frowning. “…you explained everything to him, right? The urges, the pack, the… the everything?”

He sighed. “I tried.”

“And?”

“There’s a very good chance he’s going to try to make your brother bite him, now.”

Ellie snorted, closing her eyes. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Sam murmured, fingers still running through her hair. “It’s hard to explain things to people.”

She laughed, softly, sitting up. “Run with me.”

“Right now?” he frowned slightly, surprised.

She nodded. “Maybe it’d help. You seem tense.”

“Yeah, cause my brother is trying to get himself cursed,” he sighed, sitting up though, and stretching, cracking his back. “But you’re right, maybe a run will help.”

Ellie smiled at him, her eyes flicking over to gold as she shifted, her spine arching as she started to shift.

Sam slid off the bed himself, claws growing, legs shifting and changing as he grew taller, feet lengthening to become withers, new muscle groups forming under his skin, which darkened, fur growing across his chest. Growling, he fisted his longer, stronger fingers in his hair, tugging it out of his scalp in handfuls as his ears shifted up onto the top of his head. 

Padding over to him on her rolling gait, Ellie nuzzled at Sam’s jaw as it changed, growing into his muzzle. “Oh Sam,” she murmured.

He sighed softly as the changes finished, eyes glowing yellow in the dim light of the room. 

“Come run with me,” she ordered, clumsily sliding the glass door open.

Sam nodded, ducking to get out of the doorframe, walking on the pads of his feet, dropping to all fours once he was outside, bushy tail wagging eagerly. 

Ellie followed suit, and bolted ahead of him, running into the field.

Barking happily, he ran after her, paws thumping on the grass as he ran, heart pounding, wind whistling through his fur as he ran, eager and happy.

This was the only time he felt _right_ , these days.

\---

Dean felt sort of muddled, like he could smell things that weren’t really there, hear things that didn’t exist, but he was trying to act normally. He didn’t exactly want to draw attention to the reason for it, not now.

Which was probably why, as he dug through his duffle bag, he didn’t expect to have someone tackle him and throw him up against the wall. “What the hell - ?!” he yelled.

“Dean Winchester.” Gordon grinned at him, teeth bared.

“Fuck.” Dean blinked. “What the _hell_ are you doing here, Gordon?!”

“Saving you from yourself,” he arched a brow. “Travelling with a pack of _werewolves_ , Dean? Seriously, you’ve gotten soft.”

He flushed. “It’s not that simple – “

“Yeah, I heard. Little Sammy went and got himself infected. Dean, I know this ain’t easy for you, but seriously. We’ve all had to make hard decisions. I made it, and I made it right. You can’t keep him around like this. He’s a _monster_ , Dean. You know it.”

He growled at him. “This is _my_ decision, Gordon, not yours.”

“I don’t think you’re in the right mind, Dean. You’re not looking at this right. I know if you were, you’d have made the right damn decision. So I’m gonna have to make it for you.”

“ _No_.” he tried to bolt forward.

“Gonna have to, Dean.” Gordon grinned, and cracked the handle of his gun across Dean’s temple, making his eyes roll back in his head, and collapse heavily on the floor. 

Gordon nodded, and tucked the gun back into the back of his pants. 

Leaving the room, he failed to notice that there were five small, burn like scars on Dean’s left palm, where it lay open on the floor.

\---

“Mmm…”

Sam laughed softly, still kneading gently at Ellie’s back, pinning her to the bed by straddling her legs, grinning. “I told you your back was stiff after that last hunt.” He grinned. “You probably pulled it knocking over that tree.”

She snorted. “Really, you knocked the tree over more than I did.”

“It was all you.” He grinned, massaging her stiff back. 

“Yeah right,” Ellie grinned. “Listen to your alpha, whippersnapper.”

“Whippersnapper?” he snorted. “You’ve only been a wolf a few months longer than me.”

“Yeah, but who’s your alpha, baby?”

“You. Definitely you.” He grinned, then his head snapped up at a sound. “What - ?”

A gunshot rang out, and Sam howled. Thrown off the bed, his back slammed into the wall, blood blossoming from his shoulder, messily. Ellie bolted up, furious, eyes flaring gold, teeth and claws already springing out as she snarled at the door. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to rip the intruder that had just harmed her mate to pieces.

“I know that ain’t gonna kill you, but I hardly wanted to do that yet.” Gordon stepped into the room, an assault rifle ready to fire at any moment. “Not ‘til you see me kill yer little bitch, Sammy boy. I wanna make you _suffer_ for what you did.”

“…Gordon.” He snarled.

“That’s right. Now… you gonna cry when I kill your girl?”

Ellie snarled, shoulders hunching as she started to turn. “Try it,” she growled, voice already deeper.

“Oh, I am going to enjoy it.” He grinned.

Sam roared, and sprang forward, shifting as he leapt, nails lengthening and hardening as they lengthened into black claws, eyes actually glowing in the darkness. “I’m gonna rip you apart!”

“Try!” Gordon laughed, crowing as he fired at him.

Ellie roared, shifting completely, trying to throw Sam out of the way. Someone was threatening her pack. This wasn’t happening.

Gordon flicked the gun towards Ellie, and fired.

She let out a scream that was neither animal or human, reeling back, bleeding from her throat, rasping.

Sam roared, raking at Gordon, slashing at his face.

“Ha!” he roared, laughing as he kept firing.

Ellie slumped to her knees, gasping, claws buried in the carpet as she tried to breathe. She knew she could heal. If she managed to last long enough to get there.

“Die, you little _fucker!”_ Sam roared, trying to rip Gordon’s face off.

The hunter fired again, and Sam staggered, stumbling to one knee.

The muzzle of the high powered rifle butted against Sam’s forehead, and Gordon, grinning like a maniac, leaned closer to murmur, “I am going to splatter your brains on the wall, Winchester. And the last thing you see as you die will be your mate being murdered. Understand?”

“Not. Happening.”

Gordon’s head flicked to the new voice, surprised, then cried out in shock and pain as another wolf slammed a clawed hand into his face. There was a sickening crunching sound, and the hunter tumbled limp to the floor. 

Dean rolled his shoulders, and considered the dead hunter at his feet.

“Dean?” Sam gasped, gaping at him.

“That felt better than I expected.” He considered that. “…how do I change back?”


	5. The Beast You've Made of Me, Part Five

**The Beast You've Made of Me**

EPILOGUE

TWO YEARS LATER

“Those are some odd bite marks, stranger.”

Dean looked up, dully, blinking at the young man sitting beside him at the bar, smirking slightly. He glanced at his arms, where there were dozens of little teeth marks. “Heh, yeah. My brother’s pups are teething.”

“Puppies?” the stranger repeated, dark eyes sparkling. “Heh, what breed of dog?”

He smirked slightly, taking a long deep swig of his beer, picturing the dark haired toddlers that he had _finally_ gotten to sleep before he slipped away from the pack for a few hours, for a little time to himself. “Believe it or not, wolves. _Lupe garu_ , if you will.”

The other man smirked. “Yer brother has wild wolves?”

“Yeah.”He laughed, lightly. 

“Hm.” He glanced over at Dean, running his hand through his hair. It was kind of scraggly long – like he was trying to grow it out, and wasn’t doing terribly well at it. Uneven. “Let me guess, you’re the babysitter boy.”

“Heh… yeah. Sometimes I feel like I’m raising them more than their parents are.”

“…pups were separated from their mother?”

“Oh, no, I mean… you know how it is.” He flushed slightly. “She’s an alpha, gotta run with her mate… leaves the pups behind for the rest of the pack…”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Sure, I get that.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean smirked. “You tryin’ to get away from an ‘alpha’ chick too?”

The stranger laughed softly, shaking his head. “Trying to forget about the fact that _my_ would be alpha chick got stolen away from me by the douchebag of this century. Actually, the douchebag of the last century.”

He snorted. “Damn, man. Sorry to hear that.”

“She made her choice,” he muttered, peeling the label of his beer. “Sides. I guess I wasn’t… _really_ in love with her. I thought I was. But apparently she just didn’t… rock my world the right way. You know _his_ family actually tried to suggest I try to go for her _kid_ instead?”

“Dude, that’s sick.” Dean snorted.

“Believe me,” he smirked faintly, and laughed. “I know. So here I am, about as far away from home and _her_ as I can get. Doing everything she would have freaked out about.”

“Heh, me too. I’m getting some time to myself, finally, before I go back to my ankle biters.” Dean sighed, then drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. This guy smelt good. Like campfires, pine trees. Wet dog, which was not exactly what most people sought for an attractive smell, but it was something that made him feel… _comfortable_. “Get a few of the kinks worked out.”

“Hm.” The stranger smirked. “Wanna get out of here?”

Dean hesitated, raking his eyes up and down over the other. Power practically radiated from the other, all muscles and smooth strong lines, and dark gorgeous soulful eyes. “Normally… I’d be all over that idea, but…”

The other shifted closer, and breathed in Dean’s ear, “I know. No such thing as safe sex with a werewolf.”

His eyes flicked to him, startled, and his eyes flicked gold. 

Suddenly the wet dog smell made a _hell_ of a lot more sense. “What’d you say yer name was?”

“Jacob. So… we getting out?”

Dean grinned. “We’re getting out.”

 

 


End file.
